


Midnight

by Vault_of_Glass



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Dream Sex, F/F, Femslash, Oral Sex, and the Mayor, but mostly Lady Love, hints of MacRiver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 06:13:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6554188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vault_of_Glass/pseuds/Vault_of_Glass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A beautiful stranger has been haunting River's dreams. A collaboration with tess1978. You can read her part here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6554392</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight

River knew this place.

She took in the familiar rumble of too-loud bass and pounding percussion, her nose filled with the cheap cologne and cigarette smoke in the warm air, heavy against her skin. Voices murmured indistinguishably around her, faceless shadows that filled up the dimly lit bar.

The Red Room. She used to come here during law school, when she should have been studying. Anytime she'd been frustrated or hopeless, she would inevitably find herself here in the dusky air, sliding in amongst the drunk college guys at the bar, talking one of them into buying her a drink.

The bar was packed tonight. She stretched up on her tiptoes, but even in her heels, she wasn't quite tall enough to find any spot at the long, oak countertop. She glanced about the room and found a seat at a table in the corner of the room. The woman sitting there beckoned her over with a roll of her long fingers, the deep blue of her dress clinging flatteringly to a slender figure.

The woman leaned forward over the table as River drew nearer, fingertips tracing the rim of her glass. Her mouth curled up into a smile, white teeth that gleamed between full lips - like her skin, the color of cinnamon.  River wondered if she tasted like it, too. "Need a seat?"

She wore blue, and just the right amount of it - smooth, cerulean lace that hugged her figure, a stark and stunning contrast to the russet of her skin. Through the light haze of smoke, her hair was shining black silk. The sight of it made River's heart clench with envy and an admiration that gnawed at the pit of her belly, white-hot and hungry. She could almost feel the dark tresses running over her fingers, deepest black in her pale hands.

"Cynthia," the woman said, her voice like husky velvet. "But you can call me Cyn."

"I'd like to." And River meant it. This woman was like a twist of heat, deep in the marrow of her bones, an electric pulse that drew her in like magnetism. She _wanted_ suddenly, wanted to feel strong, dark thighs wrapped and trembling around her waist, wanted to hear that velvet timbre fray into cries of pleasure, wanted that cinnamon skin under her mouth, filling her hands.

"River," she finally replied, and offered an enamored smile.

Cyn smiled back.

And the dream ended there, so abruptly that it took River a few moments to be able to open her eyes. She could feel MacCready's arms wrapped around her, curled up together like they always slept - a protective, needy instinct she adored, to stay as close as physically possible. The garage was pitch black around them, but the change in her breathing seemed to wake him, and his hold tightened momentarily around her waist. He nuzzled his face into the back of her shoulder, groaning under his breath. "You _can't_ be awake," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

A dry chuckle caught in her throat as she shifted back, closer to him. "I'm not. Go back to sleep."

"Love you," he murmured in the weary slur of a man half-asleep, fighting unconsciousness to get the words out.

"'Course you do." She grinned and rolled over to peck him on the lips. "Love you." Curled up in his strong embrace, her head ducked against the crook of his shoulder, she fell asleep to the even sound of his breathing, the familiar, natural scent of him - so different from cinnamon and summer air, soft skin and long dark curls that haunted her for weeks with coiling heat.

* * *

When she dreamt of Cyn again, there was a lot less talking this time, and there really hadn't been much to begin with. The woman came to her in flashes of vision and detail - those gold-lined turquoise eyes like precious gems, the curves beneath that dress, learning the sound of her laughter, like fine wine.

They took a cab, and in the backseat she pulled River into her lap, smiling when their lips met. She was handsy, this Cyn, smooth palms sliding up her thighs, under the hem of her dress. Music in the lilt of her breath, a rush of air at her collarbone, and the warm press of her lips - cinnamon and spice poetry River would never forget. She kissed like she smiled: hungry, questing, more aggressive than a simple expression should be, until River felt heat inch down her spine like flowing magma.

The cab squealed to a stop, and River followed the black mane of Cyn's hair through the dark rooms of a house, into a dimly lit bedroom. Then Cyn was kissing her again, backing her up towards the bed until her knees hit the mattress and they sprawled out over cool, soft sheets. River buried her fingers in the thick, dark waves of her hair, felt more than heard the approving moan Cyn rumbled in response. She parted her lips, allowing the other woman's clever tongue access, seeking more of that heady reward. Her thoughts were a lusty haze, a swell of dopamine and sensation. She felt her tongue trace the curve of her bottom lip, flick teasingly at her teeth.

Long, dark fingers gathered white hair into a fist, coaxing River by the neck into a sensuous arch. Cyn hummed in delight, the bright, lovely turquoise of her eyes drifting down her body. Her gaze was amused, knowing, recognized something in the sound of River's gasp as her teeth sank into her pale neck. She sucked at the sensitive skin of her throat, chuckled when it drew a whimper out of her. "Touch me."

River shuddered, her hands aching to obey. She peeled at blue lace and silk, freeing caramel skin, and Cyn was soft, so soft, in a way that men just _weren't_ and she'd forgotten just how much she loved that about a woman. Hadn't dreamt of a woman since Jillian, back in college, and certainly hadn't touched one like this since then, either.

Cyn deepened their kiss, more tongue now than lips, swallowed down River's groan as she tangled their legs together. River whimpered helplessly, shameless need in the sound. She felt teeth and lips at her throat and the lean muscle of Cyn's thigh sliding up between her own. From under heavy lids, she watched Cyn lean back and slide out of her dress. Bit down on her thumbnail, holding back a moan. Where River was pale and white, Cyn was all vibrant color, heat and vitality; spring, summer, and autumn to her winter.

Cyn was impatient with River's dress, pulling at the zipper with a quick swipe of her hand. When not a strip of clothing remained between them, they wrapped themselves around each other again. Teeth left bite marks like bruises on pale skin, and porcelain fingers traced russet curves. A blur of motion and sensation and Cyn's mouth suckling on her collarbone, knuckles brushing down her stomach to the swell of her mound.

The first stroke of fingertips over the sensitive heat of her sex had River twitching in response, a whimper in her throat. Cyn made a noise of contemplation, savoring the eager response. Ever too impatient for teasing, she rolled Cyn onto her back, cut off her sensual laugh with a kiss that trailed downward, lingering at the curves of her breasts. She lapped at warm skin, traced a dark nipple until it strained to a point, could feel the muscles of Cyn's stomach twitch and tense beneath her palm.

River parted the other woman's thighs with a smile, groaned at the sight of her glistening folds, slick with arousal. The flesh of her leg was soft beneath River's lips, between her teeth, as she left a trail of suckling kisses up her thigh. Cyn laced her fingers through River's hair, encouraging her to continue with soft, wordless murmurs.

River dragged her tongue up between silky folds, and Cyn was sweet, cinnamon and whiskey on her tongue, hips flexing in pursuit of that friction. River dug her fingers into her legs, keeping them spread while she worked her mouth, flicks of her tongue that she alternated with brief suction. Cyn's thighs tensed against her hold, hips rolling, and River's fingers brushing over her entrance drew a whine out of her.

One of Cyn's legs slid up over River's shoulder to draw her closer. River sucked eagerly at her as she began to inch a finger past her entrance, feeling Cyn clench and pulse around her. She crooked her finger, pulling more noises like music from the woman writhing beneath her. Slowly she added a second, pumped them in time with each determined pass of her tongue.

When Cyn came, she unleashed a breathless cry, clamping down around River's fingers with a flood of heat and arousal - silk and symphony, something divine as she came apart in River's arms. River's tongue stroked her through climax, her shattered moan breaking off into heaving gasps, until finally her hips grew still, her leg uncurling from around River's shoulder.

River crawled back up to kiss Cyn, sharing the heady taste of her arousal - until consciousness pulled her forcefully from the warmth and afterglow of their embrace. Her eyes flew wide open, whizzing around in confusion until they landed on MacCready's face above her.

He was on his elbow staring down at her, his expression torn between amusement and concern. "You okay?"

"I'm . . . yeah, I'm fine," she finally managed, sitting up. Her heartbeat was racing, skin flushed and slick with sweat, desire lingering like heat between her thighs. Dreams had never been so vivid or so real, the sound of the other woman's pleasure still ringing in her ears, fuck, she could practically still _taste_ her -

"You were moaning in your sleep."

"It was a pretty good dream."

"Oh, yeah?" He kissed her gently, trailed his lips down the side of her jaw. "Anybody I know?"

"No, I don't think so." She thought of thick, ebony waves, tickling her skin and soft hands parting her legs, a warm, small mouth on her skin, driving her wild. Her lips pulled up into a smile despite the blush that warmed her cheeks. "You'd remember her if you did."

* * *

It was another few weeks before Cyn came to her again - that was the best way River could describe it. Normally her dreams were color and memory, nightmares steeped in viscera and gore or snatches of her pre-war life, broken up and without context. These dreams, though, were different; they felt more like this woman were somehow _visiting_ her, vivid and all-consuming, lingering throughout the rest of the day to pick incessantly at the back of her thoughts.

River was on her back, Cyn's mouth leaving a trail of heat down her tensing stomach. Her hands caught River by the thighs and gently drew them apart, exposing her to that wicked smile and teal-blue eyes bright with hunger. And then her clever mouth was parting slick folds, her tongue running up over the swollen peak of her clit, sweet pressure and friction that scattered River's thoughts, turned her into a writhing mess of whimpering flesh.

"Please," she begged when Cyn paused to pepper kisses over her thighs.

"So impatient," the other woman teased, lifting her eyes to meet River's with a smile. "I like you begging." Cyn slid her fingertips down the length of River's sex, pushed gently into her and heard the smaller woman gasp in response.

River gripped at the sheets when Cyn dipped her head to taste her again, tongue and lips and heat and suction. Her hips began to quake, chasing and avoiding the overwhelming sensation in equal parts until Cyn scraped her fingernails down the back of River's thigh, leaving a trail of searing pain to anchor her among the pleasure. The warring sensations left her whimpering and feverish, suspended in that perfect, perfect balance between ache and need. She buried her hands in thick, dark hair, voice rising into a higher and higher pitch as she neared climax.

"Cyn - _Cyn_ \- fuck." Her words faltered off into an incoherent gasp in the blinding heat of her orgasm. She bucked up against Cyn's mouth, body seizing, her muscles almost burning with the pleasure that coursed through her. The taller woman pinned her down by the hips, trapping her legs apart. Her tongue worked her relentlessly through her release, sending twinges of pleasure down River's spine until it became too much, and she cried out at the overstimulation.

Cyn pulled away, smiling in satisfaction. River had barely caught her breath before she felt Cyn dragging her fingers over her sex once again. Then they were sliding into her, curling to push against her _just right_ , and River realized after a moment that she was emitting a desperate keening sound, hips grinding down to meet her touch. Cyn murmured her encouragement, nipping softly at her hipbones, making River gasp when she rolled her thumb over the smaller woman's clit.

This mystery, Cyn, worked her body with uncanny precision, and on the rising crest of another orgasm, River woke up once again.

* * *

When River walked into the Third Rail, she almost felt a weight lifted from her shoulders. MacCready's hand settled at the small of her back, thumb stroking the soft material of her dress. She could practically feel the anticipation rolling off of him in waves - it had been a hell of a journey from Sanctuary, but their favorite mayor had been caught up in work for weeks, and she figured he deserved a bit of a surprise.

Hancock had his back to them when they entered, speaking with Whitechapel Charlie as they descended the stairs. The Mr. Handy robot must have tipped him off, because he turned and his eyes lit up at the sight of them. He rushed across the room to greet them, mouth stretching into a grin.

"If it isn't my two favorite people," he rasped, clapping MacCready on the shoulder before leaning in to press a kiss to River's cheek. He chuckled when she shuddered in response.

"Somebody missed you," MacCready explained with a smirk. "Thought we might come surprise you."

"Missed me, huh?" Hancock's rough fingers brushed a strand of white hair back behind her ear. "Well . . . color me surprised."

Their words faded to incoherency when River gave the bar a cursory scan. Her eyes landed on blue silk, draped lovingly around the eerily familiar form of a beautiful woman. Their gazes met, and a thrill of heat clenched in River's gut when she recognized gold-rimmed turquoise. The woman tilted her head briefly to the side as one of the broad-shouldered men beside her muttered something under his breath.

MacCready touched her shoulder, drawing her back to the conversation. "Ready?"

River glanced back and forth between their expectant faces and smiled. "Always." 

* * *

As River's two favorite men pressed her between them, MacCready's lips at her throat, teeth digging in, and Hancock's rough hands trailing over her hips, that burning turquoise gaze filled her mind. Her thoughts drifted to soft hands and thick dark curls that tickled her skin, too brilliant, too perfect to be real and _yet and yet and yet_ \- suddenly _very real_ , staring back at her across the Third Rail, burning with satisfaction as she made her come.

The boys loved River selflessly, insistently, until her body quivered and shook through one release after another.

And in her hazy, exhausted sleep, she dreamt of Cyn.

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot was the brilliant brainchild of tess1978 - http://archiveofourown.org/users/tess1978/pseuds/tess1978.
> 
> Thank you for the chance to get back into femslash. This was a lot of fun to write.


End file.
